Fuck You, Depression.

I’m going to warn you now, there is nothing funny about this post. You might want to pass over this one if you are the skipping, clappy handy type (not that there is anything wrong with that, gimme some please). And I promise something much more fun than this is coming on Friday.

I’ve had some really interesting messages over the past few weeks. Everything from Trolls telling me I suck, “fan mail” *chortle* to Far Kew and heartfelt messages from friends and complete strangers thanking me for the laughs. I love it. Some of them have been quite personal ones, telling me my rants are the only light part of their week as they are suffering from depression. And those ones hit a bit of a nerve.

Far Kew is fine with life, she gets a bit ranty throughout the week, but stuff just rolls off her. Me? Not so much in tune with the rolling.

I have spent a large portion of my 37 years going up and down but mostly up. I am the “fun one”. The one that is always laughing and smiling and joking and bright.

Then came babies.

Nothing made me feel worse than 6 weeks after my second baby. The first one hit me hard too. I had a thyroid disorder which sent me into a spin for almost a year. But 6 weeks post partum with my second baby, I had turned into someone else entirely. I couldn’t sleep at all even though I was exhausted, I was losing my patience without warning and I would sit on the bed holding the baby just shaking and sobbing. I would fantasise about smashing my hand through a window so I would be able to go to hospital and have someone look after me. I also had panic attacks so severe I would black out and felt like a million angry spiders were running over my head. I was SO SCARED.

Convinced it was my thyroid, I visited a doctor and had all the tests I was so familiar with from last time. I filled in some wordy forms about how I was feeling and waited a few days for the results. Negative. I was diagnosed with Post Natal Depression. Oh my god. That’s the “Someone Else” disease feared by every mother.

Humiliated, I burst into tears and cried the ugly cry that is usually reserved for private moments. There was a lot of snot and sobbing and dribbling and hysteria. It wasn’t pretty.

Something about depression makes you feel like the world’s biggest loser. It’s embarrassing to admit “defeat” and say you are simply not coping. It’s hard to ask for help. Especially if you have never been the type to ask before.

The questions I asked myself were. Why do I hate being a mother? Why am I not coping with this? How come everyone else is fine with motherhood and I am not? Am I doing something wrong? Why can’t I get through a basic day without breaking up into a blubbering mess? Am I going to die?

The questions were real, but the answers were even more real.

Why do I hate being a mother?

You don’t, at least not as much as you think. It just feels like that right now as you are not sleeping and things feel impossible.

Why am I not coping with this?

You are. They are not dead. They are fed, dressed, happy and healthy. Every day is a win.

How come everyone else is fine with motherhood and I am not?

It’s an illusion. Nobody has the perfect set-up, stop being so hard on yourself.

Am I doing something wrong?

No. This happens to everyone, even the “perfect” ones. Especially the perfect ones.

Why can’t I get through a basic day without breaking up into a blubbering mess?

You need SLEEP. And help. And less concern for the “little stuff” that seems so important now.

Am I going to die?

Eventually. But not now. You can’t now.

The guilt that also comes along with depression just makes you feel even more shit. You have two healthy kids, a husband who loves you, a fabulous business and a great house. Everything you ever wanted. WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM SUNSHINE? Everyone seems quick to give advice about how grateful and happy you should feel for x y z. When all you feel you can do successfully is wallow in self pity. That is something I am very, very, good at. But it doesn’t turn the light on.

Today I choose the sun. Actually, quite literally, the sun. For me it is an earthy connection to something very powerful and far beyond my messy head. But sometimes the choice is taken away from me.

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Depression sucks, people should not be embrassed by it though and should not have to feel the stigma that goes along with mental health issues. I had a great doctor who diagnosis me when I lived in Melbourne explain that is like the chemicals in your brain are not at the right levels. He said you would not tell someone with anemia to just suck it up and feel better and that is how you should view depression, just not the right levels of happy chemicals in your head. Yes it more complex than that, yes I felt like I had failed at life, I was newly married and should of been the best years of my life but I got a disease and I took medication and eventually I got better. I was lucky that after I moved home to Qld I started to get better and my depression lifted. Some people get depression and can only managed it or it comes back. Depression sucks but it doesn’t mean you do. Thank you Far Kew for this post and helping bring awareness to people.

I was surprised that the first thing I felt was embarrassment. But that was it. I thought I was smarter than that. I thought I knew enough about it to realise it’s not a choice to feel that way. Glad you’ve been able to get through yours with the tools for next time.

Just coming out the other side of a year long battle with severe depression and anxiety. Not the first battle and I suspect not the last. I know where you’re coming from. Intense therapy this time has made it easier to just pat the Black Dog on the head, give it a biscuit and tell it to piss off. Mostly. There is no shame in it. It’s an illness. It’s not you.

Bloody hell! A friend put me on to this blog & I honestly thought for a moment I had written this post. It is all so familiar – right down to the thyroid, it’s just uncanny. At the same time it feels reassuring because it means that I am actually “not the only one” going through this, & for me that is just the biggest hurdle – the isolation. The loneliness. It strips you of everything and you feel truly alone. Thank you, not just for your honesty, but also for not giving that bullshit “happy ending” that other mummy bloggers go for – “…. once I spoke to my doctor I was so relieved and I felt the weight lift.” Urgh! For some of us we need a bit longer than a chat with the GP, but we’ll fucking get there!

Thanks Nat. Yeah I wanted to punch the Dr actually for giving me the awful truth. Then it took about a year for me to feel like I was back on track. The thyroid thing with the first took about the same time. Really sucked a large portion of the fun out of parenting for a while!

Just found this blog this post. I love it. I too love a good rant and swear. I too was totally floored by PND after my second child was born. I can relate to everything you say. For me the worst was over after a few months but in reality it’s been a seven years, and counting, road to recovery. I feel my children’s early years were stolen from me and I have had to come to terms with not being the person I thought I was. I’m getting there now but fuck it’s been hard. Solidarity sister.

Depression sucks. I have battled it for most of my life (they call it Major Depression) and there are a couple of other associated titles. I also had PND and an associated thyroid issue after my first child was born, which made the depression worse. (Apparently childbirth can kick-start thyroid disorders, who knew?) I still struggle, mostly silently, but I’m no longer ashamed. For some time now, I’ve seen it as it is: Like any other illness, which can be managed and treated. I have awesome professionals to take care of me and some wonderful people who understand me and accept me for who I am. There are those who back away slowly or judge, but the most important people get it. I used to worry I’d somehow scar my kids but living with a Mum like me, who is open about my illness and treatment, has made them very empathetic and non-judgmental. They treat it as normal and they care about their friends, or anyone who might be having a bad day or hard time. They also know it’s okay to cry or be sad but it’s not the end of the world, there is always someone who will help, and things always get better. And they can talk to me about anything because there is nothing I haven’t seen or felt. It’s made a shitty situation somehow worth it. But yes – it’s fucked. Especially when there is no money to fund treatment for those who need it the most. I hope you are feeling okay. It’s important to share because it encourages the rest of us to do the same. x

I had this exact same shitty thyroid disorder triggered by the pregnancy. It was horrific! I am coping just fine now, but not without a year of complete hell and meltdowns a plenty. I just like to be open about it as the weirdest most unexpected feeling was that of embarrassment. It Should never be a shameful thing to admit you struggle mentally. Thanks for your message xx